


One Day

by CSIGurlie07



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt, Fluff, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Mon-El - Freeform, Post Invasion Fic, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 21:36:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12308289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CSIGurlie07/pseuds/CSIGurlie07
Summary: After the invasion and Mon-el's departure, Kara is feeling low and alone. Lena tries to change that. [Pre-Supercorp]





	1. Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I'm still apprehensive of Kara's teased angst in the upcoming season, and after my last Reigncorp fic I wanted to do a fic where Kara and Lena's relationship wasn't strained. So, in preparation for the premiere tomorrow, here it is. Some feel-good loveliness.

Lena paused outside Kara’s door. Her arms burned with the weight of the offerings she carried, but still she hesitated. Doubt gripped her, made her second and third guess her decision to come. Since the Daxamite invasion, she’d barely heard from her friend at all, let alone seen her. Lena had planned to wait until Kara reached out to her but as the days passed, Lena simply couldn’t. If Kara was anything like her, then that call would never come. She knew why Kara was hurting.

She’d lost someone she loved, and all because of Lena.

But tonight wasn’t about Lena. With a deep breath she lifted her chin, reached out, and knocked. There was no sound from inside for a long while. Long enough for Lena to kick herself for assuming Kara would be grieving alone in her apartment. Kara had friends and family, who had probably already undertaken the task of helping her feel better.

Just as Lena turned to leave, the lock clicked, and opened to reveal Kara Danvers in her pajamas, eyes dry but still red and slightly swollen behind her glasses.

“Lena…” Kara cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to check in on you, see how you were doing.” Lena lifted one hand, gesturing with the large pizza she held. “I come bearing gifts.”

Kara gave her a thin smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She stepped back to let Lena enter, and Lena did so before she could talk herself out of it.

“I got your favorite from Lucio’s,” she said, filling the somber silence with false levity. “And potstickers from Chiang’s. I wasn’t sure which you’d want more, but considering I’ve never seen you turn down either, I figured I couldn’t go wrong with both.”

Kara quietly shut the door, and started taking the boxes and bags from Lena’s hands, unloading them onto the counters. Lena continued to ramble.

“And in keeping with tradition, the usual round of mood-boosting donuts are also included. I didn’t know if you were much of a wine person, so I brought enough to get completely trashed, but sweet enough for us to have fun doing it.”

Kara took the donuts without a word, and slid them next to the unopened pizza box. Lena carefully set the wine next to the potstickers. When she turned back, Kara turned in to meet her, silentely wrapping her arms around her in a fierce hug. Lena froze in a moment of surprise, then reciprocated by tucking her chin to press her head against Kara’s.

“Thank you,” Kara rasped in a thick voice.

Lena rubbed slow circles on Kara’s back. “I’m so sorry, Kara.”

Kara pulled back sharply, her movements stiff and suddenly uncomfortable. She reached up to rub her eyes, then distractedly tugged tangled hair behind her ear.

“I’m sorry, Lena,” Kara said, rubbing her face to hide a grimace before wrapping her arms around herself. “I guess I’m not very good company right now.”

Lena’s heart dropped with disappointment. Her mother's voice whispered in her mind, warning her to leave before she overstayed her welcome-- before Kara confirmed she did blame Lena for the poisoned atmosphere. But the part of her that had pulled Lena here in the first place, the part that still clung to those moments Kara had sat with her after Jack’s death urged her to stay.

“So..." Lena said, with more calm than she felt. "Let’s wallow.”

Kara’s eyes flashed up in surprise. Lena felt a heat creep up her neck and cheeks, well aware that she of all people should be the last person suggesting such an option.

“I’ve never tried it myself,” she pushed on, “but from what I hear, all we need is something greasy, something sweet, and a good bottle of wine.” Each item was accompanied by a demonstrative glance at the offerings Lena had brought. “I think we’ve earned it. Don’t you?”

It took a long moment, but Kara ultimately reached out to accept the potstickers. “I was watching a baking show…”

Lena offered a smile. “Sounds perfect.”

She carried the pizza and wine to the couch, while Kara trailed behind after grabbing two wine glasses from the cabinet. Settling on the sofa, Kara pulled the thick blanket back onto her lap and lifted one side so Lena could slide under as well.

“Shoes off,” Kara instructed, mouth full of potsticker. “Wallowing is a bare feet on the sofa activity.”

Lena smirked, quickly toeing off her flats. “Are there any other hard and fast rules I should know about?” She claimed the cushion next to Kara and folded her legs to mimic Kara’s cross-legged seat. “How’s that?”

“Mhmm,” Kara hummed her approval, settling the blanket over them both. She reached for the remote, but her fingers stilled just short of the play button. Lena stole a glance, and her heart seized at the fresh tears gleaming on Kara’s eyelashes. Lena hesitantly reached out, and this time, Kara allowed her to link their fingers together.

“Tell me about him,” Lena offered, giving her hand a squeeze. “What was he like?”

Kara coughed, giving a watery smile. “He was infuriating,” she grated out. “He challenged me on _everything_ , but… he always wanted me to be safe. He was always the one reminding me to take care of myself, and-- he made me laugh, all the time. Which I’ve really needed, the past few months, you know? I could just be myself with him, no secrets.”

Lena couldn’t say she saw much affection between them at CatCo when she invited Kara to the charity gala. Something must have changed in the months since, for Kara to go from wanting to wring his neck to mourning his loss. She isn’t surprised-- Kara had a knack for seeing the best in people, and bringing it out in them.

“You loved him.”

Kara nodded. “I think I did. I told him, before he left, and now all I can think about is how I should have told him sooner. I just-- I guess I assumed we had more time. I wanted to believe I’d have him forever. I didn’t… I didn’t want to consider that I’d lose him too.”

Lena nodded. She understood better than most. The human mind had a knack for narrowing one’s awareness to what was safe and comfortable. Lena hadn’t recognized the warning signs leading to Lex’s madness, because she hadn’t wanted to see them. Even after his arrest she’d maintained his innocence for far longer than she was proud to admit, because it simply hurt too much to consider anything else. Kara had lost her parents, and knew what it was like to lose everything. Of course she’d clung to someone who made her happy.

“I’m glad you got to meet him,” Kara continued, swallowing her last mouthful of potsticker and reaching for another. Her other hand remained in Lena’s. “The real him, not Mike. He’s changed so much since that day at CatCo.”

Lena smiled. “Considering we skipped right to meeting the in-laws, I’d say he handled himself very well.”

“When he told me what happened, my heart was in my throat the whole time. If he hadn’t been there to protect you…”

Lena paused, confused. Protect? They’d had guards on them every minute, and Lena hadn’t ever felt safe on that ship, but even when they were permitted to spend time together Lena hadn’t felt any safer with Mon-el than without him.

Kara noticed her hesitation, and blinked. “What?”

“What?” Lena parroted, schooling her reaction back to neutral. She may not have much experience in giving comfort, or wallowing, but it didn’t take a genius to knowing calling the lost boyfriend a liar was the worst thing she could do. But Kara didn’t relent.

“You had a crinkle.” Apparently that meant something to Kara, but Lena came up empty. “Did he not…” Kara’s expression shifted, growing heavy as Lena bit her lip. “He said--”

Kara removed her hand from Lena’s, and set her potsticker aside, brushing her fingers clean on a crumpled tissue. After several deep, heavy breaths, during which Lena quickly became certain she was going to be invited to leave. But to her surprise, Kara twisted to face Lena fully and settled in.

“Maybe you should tell me what happened,” Kara said solemnly. A second later, she hesitated. “If that’s okay? You don’t have to, if you don’t… If it’s too...”

“No!” Lena said quickly. “No, it’s fine. But-- are you sure?” Kara nodded. “Okay, well… Where do you want me to start?”

Kara took a deep breath. “From the beginning. How did you meet Rhea?”

Lena hesitantly began to speak, starting with the night Rhea had first visited her. Kara listened intently, with minimal reaction. She shifted uncomfortably when Lena mentioned their abbreviated phone call when she’d sought Kara’s opinion, guilt darkening her gaze. But when they got to the Daxamite ship and the forced marriage, Kara huffed bitterly. Lena nervously edged around it.

“Cat Grant’s broadcast interrupted the ceremony, thank god,” Lena told her, lapsing into a wry grin. “I’m going to have to send that woman a fruit basket, because if she had been even a minute later you’d be sitting next to Earth’s first Daxamite princess.”

Kara’s eyebrows lifted incredulously. “I had no idea it was so close.” Then her brow furrowed. “Supergirl said she found you in a corridor, without guards… what happened?”

“We were being escorted from the throne room when Mon-el blitzed a guard. I got his gun, stunned him.”

God, Lena hoped she stunned him. There’d been a split second where she’d feared she’d killed him, before her survival instinct had kicked in an all that mattered was getting off the ship. She recognized how naive a concern it was for her to have, considering he’d have killed her at one word from Rhea, and Lena had then proceeded to poison him and every other one of his kind.

Taking a breath, Lena shook her head to clear the guilt clawing at her thoughts. “Then we tried to find a way off the ship,” she continued. “I hacked an alien lock, and Supergirl was on the other side of the door-- with my mother, of all people.”

“You hacked the lock? How?”

Lena grinned, unable to ignore the thrill of success even now. It had felt so good to exert her will on that lock after being steamrolled for days-- using the tacky crown on her head made it all the sweeter. “Turns out a Daxamite tiara matches the curvature of a Daxamite lock. I used it to trip the circuit and get the door open.”

Kara smiled at her, and though it was tiny, it was the first expression that lifted her heavy features even a fraction. “That’s pretty smart.”

Lena flushed at the praise, but held Kara’s gaze even as she shrugged it away. “Yeah, well, after that… I went back to L-Corp, we got Lex’s device to work, and my mother claimed credit for it, so… Not that smart after all, I guess.”

Kara reached to take Lena’s hand again. “I’m sorry.”

Lena took a deep breath. Her mother had given her what she’d awlays wanted. Praise-- over Lex, no less-- and approval, and faith to do more great things. But on the heels of Rhea’s betrayal, they’d meant next to nothing. When she’d modified Lex’s device, she’d done it without a single thought to her mother’s hope in her. She’d been fueled only by her own confidence in herself and a healthy dose of spite-- two things Lena could thank Rhea for, not her mother.

“I’m sorry too,” she returned. She grimaced when she saw Kara’s solemn features. “I’m guessing my version doesn’t quite measure up to Mon-el’s.”

Kara’s gaze slid away from Lena, darkening with an answer without saying a word.

“Kara, I’m so sorry,” Lena said. “I didn’t mean to--”

“No,” Kara assured her, “no, I asked. I guess… he’d been trying to be a hero. Like-- like Supergirl. I guess he wanted to show that he was. He’s done that before.”

“Been a hero?”

“Embellished.”

Kara ducked her head, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. Lena tentatively reached over, and put a hand on her shoulder. Kara leaned into her, and suddenly Lena’s arm wrapped around her. There she fit, Kara’s head on her shoulder as naturally as if it had meant to be there all along. Kara groaned softly, and Lena tightened her arm around her shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” Lena said again. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Kara sighed. “I think… I think I’m ready to watch now.”

She reached for the remote, while Lena reached for the pizza box, pulling it onto their knees. The two remaining potstickers stayed with Kara for the rest of their limited life span. One hour rolled into the next, and Kara seemed to shift between actually watching and getting caught up in her own thoughts. Lena said nothing, except to comment on what unfolded on screen. All the while, Kara remained against Lena’s side, cuddling gently.

It felt like a lazy Sunday with Jack. Lena swallowed tightly at the thought. He didn’t cook much, and certainly didn’t bake, but he’d watched Lena’s cooking shows with her whenever they had a weekend morning to themselves. When she closed her eyes, Lena could still feel his arm around her shoulders, and the rumble of his voice as he cracked wise about a particular cut of fish or ridiculously short cooking time for a challenge.

In the month between their breakup and her move to National City, Lena had ignored the empty space Jack had filled for two years. The ache for him had only grown when she’d finally relocated and found herself in an unfamiliar city with no friends. It had slowly diminished when Kara became her friend, and it was Kara who Lena clung to now. Her arm tightened around Kara’s shoulders, and Kara wound her arms around Lena’s waist in return.

“Thank you for coming,” Kara murmured. Her gaze remained on the screen, but Lena wasn’t sure how much she was actually watching.

Lena brought her arm up to complete the embrace, tilting her head to rest her cheek against Kara’s hair. With a sigh, her senses filled with Kara, and she willed her friend's warmth to steady her and banish the sudden burn of tears behind her eyes.

“Always.”


	2. Evening

Alex stared at the closed door in front of her, doing her best not to bounce in place. Maggie’s acceptance of her proposal-- _she’s engaged!--_ replayed on a happy loop at the back of her mind, and she burned to share the news. But she’d been the one to ask Maggie to keep it private, out of respect for Kara’s loss. Every big sister instinct in her sensed that it was the wrong time-- that Kara would rather hear the news when she was able to be truly happy for Alex, and that announcing the engagement would only sharpen the pain of Mon-el’s loss. But as the days stretched into more than a week, Alex knew she couldn’t wait any longer.

Giving Kara her space had been the wrong choice. Tonight, Alex intended to rectify that. Armed with rented DVD and cash for pizza delivery, Alex knocked forcefully on her sister’s door and waited for Kara to let her in.

The door finally opened, revealing Kara in wrinkled pajamas and one hand curled around a pint of ice cream. Dull eyes blinked at the sight of her. “You aren’t more potstickers,” Kara stated the obvious. She leaned against the door. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Alex returned quickly. Work was off-limits tonight, cleared with J’onn and confirmed by Maggie. “I just haven’t heard from you in a while.” She studied Kara carefully. Her sister was far from usual self, but if Alex looked closely, Kara didn’t seem quite as morose as she’d been the last time they’d spoken. “I wanted to check on you.”

Kara nodded, features unmoving. “Thanks.”

Alex waited. To be invited in, to get more information-- anything.

“I’m okay,” is all she got a moment later, hushed and hesitant.

Alex swallowed uncomfortably. It shouldn’t be this hard. As a teenager she’d held Kara through the nightmares of her lost planet, dried the tears of lost family. Comfort came even easier between them since Jeremiah’s presumed death. The knot of anxiety now twisting Alex’s stomach was new and entirely unwelcome.

“I grabbed that new movie from Redbox you wanted to watch,” she continued, hating the way her voice turned up as though in question. “We could order pizza…”

“We already have pizza covered, actually.”

Alex jerked, surprise jolting through her. “We?”

Kara flushed, her gaze sliding away. “Yeah. Lena came over, and-- we just…”

“You don’t have to explain,” Alex cut in quickly when Kara fished for words. She flashed a smile at Kara, softening her words further. “I’m glad you have someone to hang with.”

Alex didn’t know how she felt about that someone being Lena Luthor. She didn’t feel particularly strongly about her one way after another. She lacked James’ vehement distrust of the woman, but she also didn’t share Kara’s unwavering belief in her, either. But… if Lena was here, if Kara had accepted her company-- Lena must be a good friend.

Suddenly, Alex felt a chasm open up between them. Kara had called Lena a friend before, but Alex had assumed that it was the same way Kara called Eve Tessmacher a friend, despite the two speaking only sporadically at CatCo. She’d understood Kara’s belief in Lena to be a manifestation of Kara’s innate sense of trust-- after interviewing the CEO so much for CatCo, if she hadn’t found a reason to doubt Lena, her sister would fight tooth and nail to defend her. That’s just who Kara was.

Alex hadn’t realized they were _friends_. Even during the invasion, Kara’s concern for Lena had been tandem to Mon-el’s, and Alex subconsciously attributed it to the save-everyone hero mentality. Now Alex understood their acquaintance ran much deeper, and she was left wondering how she could have missed it.

“She, uh…” Alex swallowed. “She seems like a good friend.”

Kara’s lips pulled into something almost like a smile. “Yeah. She is.” She looked over her shoulder briefly, before turning back to Alex. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay, yeah.” Alex nodded, stepping away from the door. “Let me know if you need anything?” Kara nodded. She pulled back, ready to close the door. “Hey,” Alex followed up quickly. Kara paused. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Their eyes met, and for a second Alex saw the old Kara under the grief and the loss. “Talk to you tomorrow,” Kara said softly.

The door closed, and Alex took a deep breath to steady herself. She leaned her head against the door, suddenly exhausted. Through the door, she heard the sofa creak as Kara settled back down on the cushions, and Lena’s low voice as she caught Kara up on what she’d missed.

“That one guy lined his cake tin with salt instead of sugar.”

“Oh, he’s toast,” Kara said, in a solemn deadpan.

“Salty toast.”

Alex pushed away from the door. As much as she wanted to be the one there for Kara, she accepted that she’d missed that window. She’d left it too long, let her own happiness morph into discomfort on Kara’s behalf and lengthened the distance between them. It wasn’t just the proposal; it wasn’t just Mon-el’s loss. This had been building for months, as she learned how to love someone who wasn’t her family-- as she learned who she could be without Kara.

She'd promised Kara she wasn't going anywhere, and yet she'd somehow missed the deep friendship building between Lena and her sister. A dark whisper in Alex’s mind wondered if her preoccupation with Maggie had been what pushed Kara to cling to Mon-el so tightly, and now amplified his loss after so short a time. 

As she walked towards the elevator, Alex resolved to find the balance. She could have both Maggie _and_ Kara, and love them equally. For now, she would entrust Kara’s well-being to Lena Luthor, and hope that the woman could help ease Kara's grief enough for her sister to resurface.


	3. After Midnight

Kara opened heavy eyes to a dark living room and the tv blinking in standby mode. She felt warm under the blankets, toasty and floaty on the verge of sleep. As she drifted closer to full wakefulness, she felt something sharp poking the side of her nose. She turned, and the poking turned into a dozen new pinpricks. Kara lifted her head, and the poking disappeared, the offender being the ends of Lena’s hair. She’d slumped against Lena while she slept, and now her friend dozed on the sofa beside her, features pale and peaceful in the scant bits of light coming in from the streetlamps outside. 

After a long moment, Kara realized that the knot of anguish in her chest had eased. The gaping hole in her chest that had formed when Mon-el lifted off in her pod was still there, a vortex of grief and worry that constantly pulled at her, but she could breathe again.

Reaching out, she gently ran her fingers over the offending strands of Lena’s dark hair. Lena gave a sleepy sigh, shifting in her sleep. She curled towards Kara, settling more comfortably into the cushions. In the dark, features relaxed in sleep, Lena looked so young. As if she hadn’t lost her family, her former boyfriend-- as if she hadn’t recently been nearly forced to marry an alien stranger.

When that door on Rhea’s ship had opened, the sight of Mon-el and Lena (alive and well, together) had seared itself into Kara’s brain. She hadn’t fully registered the red gown Lena had worn, hadn’t considered what it meant. Now that Kara had the full story, and the time to process it, the thought of what had nearly transpired turned her stomach. 

The queasiness intensified as she considered the new discrepancies that existed between Mon-el’s debrief and Lena’s retelling. She felt guilty for assuming that they meant anything other than Mon-el had been pressed for time when they talked. She felt even guiltier for assuming the discrepancies were on Mon-el’s behalf, and not Lena’s.

But Lena had no reason to lie. Intentional or not, Kara had walked away from Mon-el’s story feeling like he’d finally become the hero she’d always hoped he could be: that he had saved Lena’s life. But by Lena’s account, she had largely saved herself, which held with everything Kara knew about her. 

As disappointed as she felt, Kara knew it didn’t matter. Not anymore. She’d never see Mon-el again. Kara focused on breathing past the lump that rose to her throat, struggling to blink away the tears that rose to her eyes lest she wake Lena with crying. 

She’d come so close to losing both of them. If Cat had been even a few minutes later in her broadcast, things could have ended very differently. Maybe Kara could have kept Mon-el, but would the cost be any less? The thought of Lena, caught up in a situation beyond her control, losing any part of her agency-- of  _ herself-- _ to a forced marriage made her sick. 

Losing Mon-el felt like Draaga had punched throught her chest and pulled out her insides. It felt like losing Astra all over again: the chance to be happy ripped away just as it came into reach. Kara felt hollow, like she was drowning in nothingness. But she was still standing.  If she had lost Lena too-- Kara wouldn't let herself even consider the possibility.

For all that Lena claimed to be unfamiliar with Kara’s particular brand of friendship, Lena was kind and caring and selfless. Lena was here, when Kara had dodged her and everyone else for days in an attempt to keep her anguish from spreading. Lena made the emptiness bearable. Lena was a glimmer of light in the darkness, in a way Mon-el never had been. With Lena, she wasn’t alone.

Kara tucked the blanket up around Lena’s shoulders, and settled against her side once more, reveling in the warmth coming from her friend. Lena’s cheek settled against the top of her head, her breaths still soft and even, deep asleep. Her calm stole over Kara, soothing the ache for the first time since the invasion ended.

Sleep tugged at Kara, her breaths slowing to match Lena’s. With each heartbeat, her thoughts spooled out, catching on every failure of the past two weeks. She failed Mon-el. Kara had failed to stop Rhea-- she hadn’t won the Dakam Ur, and thwarting the invasion had fallen to Lena. Kara hadn’t found a solution that would give Mon-el the choice to stay. Before the duel, in the locker room with Clark, Kara had known she wouldn't be able to keep it all. However much she’d hoped, part of her had  _ known _ . But now Kara realized she hadn’t lost everything: she hadn’t lost Lena. 

She almost had. But here Lena was, warm and breathing. 

For Kara, that would be enough.


	4. Morning After

The next morning, Kara didn’t jump into her suit and do her normal circuit of the city. Instead she lingered under the blanket, until she sensed Lena’s heart rate increase softly towards wakefulness. Then she carefully climbed up to get the coffee started. She pressed her lips together against a small smile when she heard Lena groan a few minutes later, rising stiffly from the couch.

“Oh, god,” Lena moaned. “I can’t believe I fell asleep here. I’m so sorry.”

“After a night on that couch, I bet you are,” Kara teased, sliding a mug of fresh coffee across the table as Lena limped towards the kitchen.

“My spine feels like someone turned it into a pretzel.” Lena grimaced. She ran her fingers through her dark hair before rubbing the back of her neck. “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to spend the night.”

“No, I know. And it’s fine, really.” Kara twisted her mug on the counter, suddenly awkward. “I want to thank you, Lena. Last night was… I really needed that.”

Lena tilted her head, features creasing into a warm smile. “What are friends for?”

“I mean it,” Kara countered, determined to not let Lena minimize her selflessness. Not this time. Lena heard the heaviness in her voice, and her smile faded slightly, concern slowly shadowing her features. Kara looked away. “You’re the first person who hasn’t told me that the pain will pass, or that they’re proud of me for making the decision to let him go. No one has just… You came here, and you didn’t try to fix anything. You just let me feel how I feel, without being so alone.”

Kara’s throat threatened to close, and her eyes burned. “So, thank you.”

“I’m grateful you let me,” Lena confessed. When Kara looked up, she found Lena’s smile had faded completely. “I wasn’t sure you’d--” Lena stopped herself, then switched to a different track. “I have a lot to make up for. Thank you for letting me start here.”

“The invasion wasn’t your fault, Lena,” Kara said. Lena refused to meet her gaze.

“I shouldn’t have trusted her.”

The confession came sharp and jagged. Kara remembered suddenly the last time they’d spoken, the afternoon they’d shared lunch at CatCo. She clearly recalled Lena’s smile, the undercurrent of happy delight as she’d glossed over the project that had consumed so much of her time-- and the mysterious partner who’d become an unexpected mentor. Kara reached for Lena’s hand, but Lena drew away, her averted gaze filling with sudden tears.

“And Mon-el…”

“Mon-el wasn’t your fault either. Your device saved the planet, Lena, and it wasn’t you who pushed the button. You gave it to Supergirl, so she could have more time to find another way--”

Lena shook her head, lifting her hand to wipe away the tears that shook loose. Kara came around the table. “Lena…”

“I should have _known_ better.”

As horrific as it had been to watch Rhea crumble to dust, Kara now knew it had been a quicker death than the queen deserved. Anger filled Kara, eclipsing the emptiness that had taken root in her. During the duel, she’d thought only about what Rhea had cost her, what she was trying to take from her. Kara hadn’t thought about what she’d taken from Lena. She’d used Lena, targeted her and exploited her kindness, and her trust. She’d shaken Lena’s faith in herself, in her own ability to sense the good in people.

Kara and Lena were similar in more ways than one, but this was one situation Kara couldn't say she fully understood. When Kara had learned the truth of her parents’ work, she’d been disappointed and horrified and riddled with guilt-- but she’d still known that their love for her had been true and unchanging. The people she'd trusted to guide her had never abused that trust.

Lena couldn't say the same.

She didn't know what to say. So without speaking at all, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Lena. Her friend stiffened for a long moment, but when Kara didn’t pull away, Lena seemed to melt. Her whole body sagged, and the arms that came up to circle Kara’s waist trembled slightly. A moment later, Lena’s breath hitched, and Kara’s arms tightened, anticipating more tears. Instead, a laugh popped out of Lena, a soft explosion of breath that shattered the heavy tension.

“What?” Kara asked, drawing away. She studied Lena, who wiped her eyes even as her lips curled upwards.

“You have--” Lena huffed again, eyes crinkling with mirth. She reached out, fingers brushing Kara’s hair. “Ice cream, there.”

Kara glanced down, reaching for the tangled ends of her hair. Sure enough, a blob of oreo ice cream met the tips of her fingers. Heat flooded her cheeks, even as Lena’s mirth infected her too.

“Oh, my god,” she groaned, smiling sheepishly. “You have got to be kidding me!”

Lena giggled as she reached for a napkin, dampening it at the sink before helping Kara comb it out. “Saving some for breakfast, huh?” she teased. Kara only groaned again. Lena used a clean corner of the napkin to dry the damp strands of hair, giving them a soft stroke as she smiled. “There. Our secret.”

“Thanks.”

Neither of them stepped away for several long moments. Kara realized how close they were, but didn't pull away until her stomach rumbled audibly, pulling another laugh from Lena.

“Maybe we should have left the ice cream after all.”

“ _Har, har_.” But Kara smiled back. For a brief moment, she felt normal again. She glanced up at Lena. “Do you have to go to L-Corp this morning?”

Lena shook her head. “No. I’ll have to stop by sometime today, but nothing that can’t wait until afternoon.”

“Then how about brunch? I know a great cafe a few blocks over that’s already re-opened. We could walk there, stretch out some of the kinks.” Kara nervously licked her lips. “My treat.”

“Are you sure?” Lena’s eyebrows lifted when Kara nodded. “Okay. Is what I’m wearing all right?”

Kara assured her that her jeans and creased t-shirt were perfectly fine. Kara, on the other hand, used the home field advantage to freshen up and change out of her pajamas-- giving her sticky hair another scrub just in case. By the time she came out, Lena had splashed water on her face and braided her hair to one side, pulling the long strands out of her face.

“Let’s get going,” Kara said. “Waffles are calling my name.”

Lena grinned, and Kara let their shoulders bump as they filed out of her apartment. She liked this. She liked Lena in blue jeans and relaxed hair, and how vibrant she seemed out of the office. She liked the way Lena smiled, even when Kara knew her jokes were horrible. The morning felt different with Lena there. And as much as Kara hated that their current point of commonality was grief, she loved that Lena had stayed.


End file.
